Headcanon One Shots
by herm1on3
Summary: A series of One Shots based of headcanons that I've read, created or even ones that you've submitted. Read and Review Please x
1. Rules

I decided to write a series of One Shots based on Head-canons I've written, or read, or even (if anyone ever reads this) ones that you submit. However there are a few rules for this to work.

I mostly try to stick to Book-canon as of the seventh book. Any facts about the life after Hogwarts that JK Rowling has released are up for interpretation.

Ignore the chapters before hand. Take each one shot as its own entity, critique it as though it was one shot and read it as though it was one shot. There may be continuity errors between pieces but remember THEY ALL STAND ALONE

I love feedback- this isn't a rule more an advisery- so reviews are great, and if you enjoy… I encourage you to keep reading (and reviewing) so I know.

If any more rules are added they will be seen here. Until then, from your book loving friend

Herm1on3


	2. Ron and Hermione

**Hermione's POV:**

The hairdresser stepped aside and allowed Hermione to finally see the work that the "creative team" as her mother called it had spent the last 3 hours working on. Hermione had specifically asked for a recreation of the hair that she had worn for the Yule Ball. However, the hairdresser had used her creative license to "adult things up a bit". Her mother had assumed that tonight was going to be the first night that she and Ron had decided to consummate their relationship- If only she knew that the consummation had occurred several months before.

*Flashback*

Ron's hand ran softly down through Hermione's hair, and moved his mouth down to her neck, trailing kisses down toward her collarbones. He paused and looked up at her, blue eyes meeting brown.

"I like your perfume Mione, its smells original and beautiful... just like you."

She smiled, and moved her hand to cup his chin and pull it back up toward her mouth. "It's certainly original" she said, before kissing him slowly. The kisses continued, and with each kiss the intensity increased until Ron's hands were clutching at the buttons of Hermione's shirt- trying with such haste to undo them, that eventually they just ended up slipping the top over Hermione's head.

Their feverish bodies pressed together as they tried to be as close as they possibly could. This was not just sex for Hermione- this was her first time and she wanted it to be with someone special, and more importantly with someone she loved. People had often assumed that a Harry/Hermione coupling was more appropriate, because she was the brightest witch of her age and he was the boy who lived. However, Hermione knew that yes, it was true that Harry held a special place in her heart, he was nothing compared to Ron.

Ron had always been on Hermione's nerves, but she kept biting to his bait, because she knew that there bouts of witty repartee were more of a special moment to her than any saving the world deed with Harry. The time that Ron and Hermione spent together always had that something special, that special feeling that was just like home.

The memory of this fuelled Hermione's passion, and she was quick to make her intentions clear. She wanted this, and she wanted it now. Ron worked his hand toward Hermione's back, before undoing her bra with one swift motion. Hermione voiced her approval with a soft moan and Ron replied with a cheeky "Always the tone of Surprise"

*Present*

"The hair looks lovely thank you." Hermione said, before looking at the array of products still lined up on the bureau. Hermione was unaware as to what these bottles were, but when she turned them around she saw labels that read Caron, Ralph Lauren, Jean Patou and Annick Goutal. These were seriously expensive bottles of perfume. Hermione's mother came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her daughter.

"I only want the best for my little girl, and Madame Gigi recommended them"

Hermione, quite frankly, couldn't give a damn about what Madame Gigi recommended. She was only her dress designer, and in Hermione's mind, had no right to comment on anything other than the dress. A knock on the door caused Hermione to look around. There, standing in the door way was her maid of honour Ginny and her boyfriend (and Hermione's best friend) Harry.

Ginny smiled brightly and then walked in the room. She briefly kissed Hermione on the cheek, carefully- as to not mess up the makeup, before continuing on to do her maidly duties. Harry smiled and took a step in the room so as the door could shut behind him.

"Even though Ron couldn't come and see you, he sent his best mate and best man to check on how, and I quote, hot his future missus looked. I laughed because he sounded quite muggle- you've made your impact already Hermione. Though, I'm assuming that also as your best friend, I shouldn't comment on your hotness… no matter how gorgeous you look?"

Hermione smiled and stood, walking over to Harry and embracing him tightly. "How about," she began "You just tell Ronald that he will have to wait and see."

It was then that it hit Hermione. She knew exactly what would make this day perfect for her and Ron. It wasn't a rich chocolate mousse or a batch of WWW fireworks, and it definitely wasn't that pricey bottle of perfume. It was the perfume that Ron had given her all those years ago, a Christmas that seemed a lifetime ago. She turned away from Harry and walked briskly to her closet flinging the door open.

"Harry, Ginny, Mother and Goddamn Madame Gigi, I want you to look high and low for a bottle of perfume. Harry I'm sure you remember it, though probably not between defeating the dark lord and all… it was a present for Christmas, fifth or sixth year I think. Do you remember it?" She turned back around to see all the people in the room staring at her blankly.

"MOVE!" She snapped before continuing to raid through her closet. Hermione through clothes everywhere, and she was quite sure that she managed to hit Harry in the head with a bra. After five minutes of searching, most of Hermione's closet was on the floor, and Harry had got bored and left. Ginny yelled that she had found a bottle of perfume, but that it didn't smell nice at all, and Hermione was sure that was it. She smelt it, and it was definitely unusual, but that was all she needed, she spritzed herself a few times before declaring that it was time to get married.

*After the ceremony*

"I would now like to invite Mr and Mrs Ronald Weasley to the floor to have their first dance as a couple"

Ron stood from his chair, and held his hand out for Hermione to take. She did so, and he led her out onto the dance floor. She relaxed for what seemed like the first time all day as he pulled her into his arms. They rocked awkwardly, because, despite Ron's efforts, he was still a horrible dancer. Though it may have looked awkward to everyone else, it did not feel awkward to Hermione, it felt like home.

Ron looked at her lovingly, and leant forward and placed a soft kiss on both her cheeks before leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight Mione?"

She blushed and looked downward, as he continued. "No, I'm serious. You always struck me, from the very first day we met. Except then it was because of your wild hair and inquisitive eyes, now it's because of the little things that I know about you. How when you fall asleep with a book you always end up cuddling it like it was a long lost friend. How you have a mole on your left hip that is the same shape as a quidditch pitch. How you try really hard not to smile when we fight, but you always do. And how everything about you tonight is beautiful, right down to the perfume."

She smiled and kissed him once, "It is certainly original" and then at that moment, a flicker of recognition crossed Ron's face. He smiled "I bought this for you, Christmas, fifth year. You always said it was original, I can't believe you remembered-"

Hermione stopped him by placing a finger to his lips. "Always the tone of surprise" she murmured, before sealing it with a kiss.

Fin

**At her wedding, Hermione refused to wear the expensive perfumes that everyone recommended. Instead, she wore the 'unusual' perfume that Ron had given her on Christmas many years ago.**


	3. Draco

Draco's POV: Timeline: Scorpius is young (4)

"Daddy, will you come and play with me?" Scorpius' voice rang out through the lofty library of Malfoy Manor, version 2.0. Draco Malfoy's head snapped up at the sound of his son's voice, he was sure that it was still his nap time, and despite some performances of juvenile magic, Draco was quite sure that Scorpius wasn't as clever as Scorpius believed he was.

Draco had planned on reading quietly while his son took a sleep, but, since it seemed as though Scorpius didn't want to nap, Draco wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to play with his son. It had taken Draco a long time to come to terms with the fact that he had a family, especially one that loved him with no strings attached. Draco's wife didn't try and manipulate him to do the deeds of a dark lord, though there wasn't really a dark lord to be manipulated to do the bidding of thanks to Potter. But after his father's apprehension and commitment to Azkaban, Draco was only just learning to be at peace with his life.

Draco had always suffered with what the muggle doctor had determined to be "survivor's guilt with a mild case of PTSD", though without knowing the full story, Draco was a tad sceptical on what the doctor had diagnosed him with. Draco had even gone as far as to consult Granger on what the psychologist had told him.

Granger had told him that all of what the doctor said was reasonable, though, and she asked this in the most delicate way, was he really guilty. At the time, Draco had shrugged off that question, but purely for the sake of not letting Granger see how much this was getting to him. Draco was a man that believed in choices, he believed nothing of this fate nonsense, though- if his wife asked, of course their first meeting was fate. Draco relied purely on the belief that his choices led to the repercussions, and it therefore justified how he was feeling.

Draco couldn't find a word to describe how he felt, yet he quite firmly believed that guilty didn't even come close to describing how he felt. It was as though every name on the mural that was erected at Hogwarts was a personal failure on his part. What if he hadn't let The Dark Lord into the school in his sixth year, what if he had accepted Snape's help? Would Dumbledore still be dead? Would Potter still be a hero? These questions would remain unanswered, yet every day they continued to circle around and around his head. It drove him insane, but it was manageable. It was manageable every day except the anniversary of that war. It was Draco's Dark Day.

Draco's Dark day led to Draco disappearing for a solid twenty-four hours, no-one knew what Draco did on that day. He skipped out on work, his family and his friends and endured a day of complete solitude. Draco, however, knew exactly what he had to do on that Dark Day, so he did it… every year from the war until now. Draco went and purchased chrysanthemums and gladiolas and placed them at every grave of a person who died during the war. Every single one. Then, Draco would place a flower at the door of every family of every person who died during the war. Every single person, except one. Since learning of Snape's affections for Potter's mother, he did something that was incredibly cheesy, and something that he was sure Snape was leering at him from the great beyond about, Draco placed a single Lily at the grave of both Lily Potter and Severus Snape. These lilies would be tied together with a bright green thread and despite the inconvenience it caused to anyone around him; Draco was never brave enough to cut the thread. Because in his eyes, he had ruined the connection Snape had to anything that reminded him of her in the real world, he didn't want to ruin the connection in the spirit world as well.

Absentmindedly, Draco found himself stroking his arm. "Daddy?" Scorpius was next to him now, tugging on the hem of his sleeve. "What are you doing to your arm?" Draco instinctively pulled his hand away from his arm. He had done his best to hide the massacre that was his arm. His eyes could see through the sleeve of his shirt to the keloid scar that was on his arm. He thought back to those times, and could still feel the crushing depression pressing down on his heart.

When the war ended, Draco was racked with guilt. His father had been a key player in the Voldemort movement, and in a way so too had Draco. People kept telling Draco that he was equally guilty, everyone except Hermione.

Hermione had seen him on the very first Dark Day. Not by choice, mind you. Draco had felt so guilty, that the dark mark on his arm was a firsthand reminder that he was a royal screw up. He didn't deserve to live, but he also didn't deserve to die. He had to do something; he deserved to suffer, so Draco had gone to the kitchen and pulled out a carving knife, and gauged the dark mark off his arm.

It was surprisingly relaxing, as the blood ran down his arm, his mind cleared. He could finally see it, this is what he deserved, and this is what everyone wanted him to do. The blood continued to flow, and Draco began to get lightheaded. His vision blurred, and he collapsed, unconscious.

Hermione told Draco that she was worried about him- though Draco couldn't imagine why- and Hermione had popped round to the Manor to check on him. She rang the doorbell, knocked with the serpent knocker and eventually had wandered around the perimeter to look in the window. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

All the lights in the house were off, except one on the second story. It still gave Hermione the chills to be here, she remembered when Bellatrix had carved mud blood in her arm, and she still had the scar to prove it. Her blood was ingrained in the floorboards of this house, and she didn't want to be here. But, she shook it away, because for once in her life- Draco Malfoy trusted her, and she quite liked that feeling. He had given her so much shit throughout Hogwarts, but he seemed a changed man.

Hermione stood staring at the window, "Draco!" She yelled, hoping that he would hear her. There was no response, so she spun around and picked up some pebbles, throwing them at the window in quick succession. Still no response. She could apparate into the house, but she wasn't too clear on the floor plans, she didn't want to apparate into the wall. So, she did the only thing she could think of… She climbed the tressed vines that climbed the side wall until she reached the window. She peered in to the room- and saw the bathroom. I certainly hope Draco isn't in the shower, she thought. Though, when she finally saw Draco, she would have much preferred to see his penis than what she saw. Draco was lying on the floor in a pool of his blood. There was a gauge in his arm, and Hermione could see the radius, she removed her hands from the vines and exclaimed Draco's name.

However, taking her hands off the vines meant that Hermione fell, and she didn't have enough time to pull her wand from her pocket, so she hit the ground with a thud. She didn't think about the searing pain that shot up her back, but thought about the floor plan of that bathroom, and apparated into the room.

"Draco, Draco can you hear me" Hermione said, running to place her hand on his face. He was cold, and non-responsive. Hermione was always a forward thinker- and before she had ventured on to horcrux hunt with Harry, she had taken a first aid course and those practices had gone into automatic mode when she saw him. She had even got as far as pulling out the phone to call an ambulance, but she was snapped to reality by Ron's voice in her head saying "Are you a witch or not?"

So she grasped Draco's bleeding arm, trying to hold the blood inside him, before visualising the waiting room of St Mungo's hospital. When they arrived, there was no-one in sight.

"Help! Someone Help me!" she screamed, hoping that someone in the hospital would hear her. A candy striper appeared and was stuck still, staring at the bloodied pair on the floor. She scampered off, and quickly came back bringing nurses and doctors alike.

They stole Draco away from her, and Hermione started to hyperventilate. She wasn't a strong person when it came to her friends being hurt, and she actually considered Draco a friend. A nurse came up to her and asked if she was okay, but she didn't even answer before she passed out.

That was all Hermione could tell Draco after the event, though he did know that he was in hospital for a few weeks, and he had received several blood transfusions. He didn't know who donated the blood, considering that his father was in Azkaban at the time and his mother was in hiding, but whoever it was, Draco owed them his life.

"Daddy, what's the scar on your arm from?" Scorpius asked, as while Draco was off reminiscing, Scorpius had managed to push up his sleeve. Draco didn't want to tell Scorpius, because Scorpius genuinely loved him, and he was proud to cell Draco his daddy. "Oh Daddy hurt himself a few years ago, and Aunt Hermione helped him by taking him to the doctor. That's all you need to know Scor okay?"

Scorpius nodded, "Okay Daddy, will you play with me now? I wanna play hide and seek..."

Draco laughed, and placed his hands over his eyes and began to count. Scorpius was never to find out about Draco's past, and he was going to do everything he could to stop him from finding out. He was guilty enough, but he didn't want the best thing in his life to hate him too.

**Scorpius always wondered about one particular scar on his father's arm, a long, rectangular one. After the Second Wizarding War was over, Draco tried to gouge the Dark Mark right off of his own arm and nearly died. He hated what he had done and who he had been and for him, getting rid of the tattoo was the first step.**

**A.N: I hope you enjoyed, its not my best but I might edit later. Please review.**


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